My name is Amber. My husband, Sid, dresses me for the evening. It's one way he pushes my limits. Tonight is especially difficult. He has outfitted me in a tiny black dress, which stretches the barest amount over the cheeks of my little ass. Even worse, it plunges in the front...a lot. I can't take a step without worrying that I will expose my nipples. And sometimes it does. I am constantly adjusting, but I can't pull the dress up too far. Sid has denied me panties, so I have to be careful. Honestly, I am so wet.
He guides me to a downtown bar. After a martini, I begin to relax. He knows me, and he knows where this will lead. After another drink, I unclench. I stop fighting the dress. I stop worrying. I am in good hands. When I look down, one hard little nipple is just about to escape my dress. I just don't care anymore. This is up to Sid now. We are sitting at a high table, against a window facing the street. We talk about cooking, about the lake, about fucking. Sid scans the room, silent for a moment, and then asks me if I could pick anyone in the room, who would I choose to fuck. My eyes drop, but just for a moment. Looking around, I settle first on a tipsy sorority girl in a tight pink dress, but think better of it. I continue to survey the crowd. With Sid, questions like this are never an idle exercise. Sex, at least good sex, requires experience. If I am really getting to choose, which I am not sure yet that I am, I need to choose wisely. And I know I want a girl. I want to taste her. I want to bury myself between her legs. I want to feel her convulse on my tongue. I want to hear her moan, I want to feel her thighs tense against my cheeks, I want to feel her hand wrap itself in my hair, pulling me deeper into her. I want to slide my tongue inside her as she orgasms, giving a center to her spasms, punishing her for giving in so quickly, coaxing another out of her as I bite down on her clit. I want...
I want the woman in the blue dress. Full, soft breasts. Lightly tanned. She seems free, uninhibited. Slim. Interesting...older than me. I think about it carefully, and sort through the bar one more time. But no, it's her. I well up my courage, and I ask Sid for her. He smiles, almost grins. I don't notice why until he explains. My nipples